"Get more for your money, when you fuck with Mr. Porter-r-r-r-r..."

As long as I got my pen I don't need a friend
We got ears that we each'll lend each other, my brother just hollered at me again
He said he tired of all the lyin, deceivin and
dick-ridin the people providin on every beat but when
I do it it's stupid, I bruise it like a bad bitch
I lose it, my music's a movement and they just mad stiff
I told 'em it's mathematical in this pad lift
Point 'em out and I will subtract him, with an ad lib
See the fact is (what) I'm a bastard
How can I not be (Macho, Man)? I'm a (Savage)
In the past I was passive, now I'm mad bitch
I'm spazzin, you get an Adidas classic where yo' ass is

Eh-eh, eh-eh, Nickel ain't the one at all
Snatch your vocal chords out then plug 'em in my wall
You a knife at a gun fight, our shit is raw
You a square, you're silverware in a civil war
The Slaughterhouse wolf pack, riders under the moon
The reason you itchin wit'cha lighter under your spoon
I'm a lover, the lead bustin is old to me
You put your head in her butt, I headbutt the ovaries
God dipped me in war paint for all weathers
I'm Mr. spill the liquor on my alcohol tether
No need to ride with nobody, I feel the heat can help me
Your jean's skinnier than Em is when he eatin healthy, hahaha

WHOA, WHOA, WHOA
WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, Shaaady!

WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, WHOA
WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, WHOA
{"Mr. Porter-r-r-r-r..."}

Outnumbered, outspoken, outcasted
Outweighed outrageous odds and outlasted
Outlandish, so I learned to outwit 'em
I outsmart 'em, outgrew 'em, I outdid 'em
Cream, out-bid 'em, team can't out-spit him
(You could) Keep sleepin, your wet dream is out with him
(See) Do a lil' yoga, a lil' kama sutra
Steakhouse nigga, used to be a Ramen Noodler
Heavy on B and E's, was a calm intruder
Pumped a Ruger, moms called me con and loser
I suggest you and your mans'll regroup (why?)
Bet against it, and probably can't recoup - out!

I point a pistol at your mamma mia
I'm sick as Tyson in the ring at the Colosseum with gonorrhea
Fuck a rapper, my clapper black as Muhammadiya
Fuck you R&B bitches, shut up! You not Aaliyah
(Ha ha!) When Mr. Porter record a piano
Producers may wanna order some ammo
I'm a California corner reporter
Your boy wasn't born with a quarter bein poor as a whore and I'm an aura
It's sorta Soprano; look here
We reinvent the wheel to have a (Good Year) - and y'all tired
We like Tyler Perry mixed with Everlast
The House of Payne/Pain, Slaughterhouse gang nigga!